Perfect. Part 25
I don't want to spend the rest of my life doing something that makes me miserable. Not even if it means drowning in money." Suddenly it got very difficult to choke down my soggy cereal. "Look. I promise I'll be okay, no matter what. Cheer up. Maybe I'm just a late bloomer, and there's a mercenary lurking somewhere deep inside me after all."
It Wasn't That Funny But it did make both of them smile long enough for me to escape. What I didn't tell them, and have no idea how I will, is that I'm thinking about taking a semester or two off school. There's a theater conservatory I might look into. Or maybe I'll get a job, an apartment. Chill for a year or so, until I figure out exactly what it is I want to do. Become. G.o.d, the harder they push me to "become" something, the more I want to dig in my heels and just be whatever it is I am. And what I am right now is once again running late. I've got tickets for the ballet tonight. Thought I'd surprise Jenna. I told her to dress up. Hope she listened. And I hope she's ready.
She Isn't, Of Course I call her as I pull into the driveway.
More and more, I try to avoid relating to either one of her parents.
"Hey. Ready to go? You wore a nice dress, right?" I hear m.u.f.fled voices in the near background.
I'll be out in a minute, she huffs. Then, to the m.u.f.fled voices, Can I please go now? Andre is waiting for me! Garbled responses. I promise.
I don't know... Wait...
And to me, What time will I be home?
The performance starts at eight. Two hours makes ten o'clock. "Around eleven, I guess." Suddenly they care?
It is another several minutes before she exits the house, teetering down the walk in some extremely tall-and hot-heels.
She shimmies into the car, pushes down into the cush leather.
G.o.d. Unbelievable. Let's go, before Patrick changes his mind and makes me stay home.
I back out of the driveway, noticing the length of her almost nonexistent skirt. "Wow. Short dress." Hope her top is covered better. Can't tell because of her jacket, but my guess is, no.
I'm afraid she'll draw more attention than the ballerinas. That's my girl.
I'm almost used to it. "So, what's going on?"
She pulls a familiar flask from her pocket.
Takes a long drink. I love peppermint schnapps. Her voice is husky, slow. Want some? I decline, and she takes a drink for me. For some asinine reason, Patrick decided he needed to play Daddy tonight. He called a family meeting. First, he accused Kendra and me of stealing Mom's Xanax.
Then he said there are new house rules about going out, and how they want to know who we're going with, where we're going, and when we'll be home. I bet he starts checking out our rooms and stuff too.
Considering she's sitting here, sucking down alcohol, maybe he's got a point. "Did you take your mom's Xanax?"
Maybe a couple, she admits. Just to get me through the wedding stuff. Who knew Mom'd actually keep track?
The Girl Has No Shame It's one of her better qualities. But it also makes me worry about her. And us. "Xanax is expensive. Why wouldn't she keep track? But the bigger question is, did you take one tonight? Xanax and schnapps don't mix well."
How would you know? I kind of like the way they mix.
She laughs. In fact, they mix perfectly.
This is going to be an interesting evening.
"Jenna, please be careful.
People die every day from drug interactions...."
She flips. Don't worry about me! I am completely in control.
Anyway, why do you care what I do?
"Because I love you, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. You're supposed to worry about people you love. Don't you get it?"
She Does Not Respond For a long while. Finally she says, I don't believe in love. Not sure it really exists, but even if it does for some people, it won't for me. She is serious.
Then she lightens up.
But, hey, if you think you love me, cool.
My turn not to know what to say. I exit the freeway, thread through a maze of side streets, park a few blocks away from the theater. We get out of the car, and I go around, take Jenna into my arms. "I do love you.
Not always sure why. But you are unique.
Exceptional, in so many ways. Why do you think love will never come to you? It already has." I kiss her, as sweetly as I know how, hoping she will believe love has found her.
Finally She Wiggles Free No acknowledgment. No reciprocal declaration. Just, Okay. Where are we going, anyway?
It's so Jenna, I can't even get mad.
"The San Francis...o...b..llet is in town. Ready to soak up some culture?"
The ballet? Are you kidding? Her inflection gives away nothing. Surprise?
Disgust? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess. She takes my arm, struts toward the theater, drawing the usual stares from pa.s.sersby, and a catcall from some derelict-looking guy. Luckily, we don't have to walk all that far. But then, when we get inside and she takes off her jacket, my worst fears are confirmed.
Her V-necked top hides nothing. She pulls every eye, and not just the guys'. Our seats are in the balcony, front row.
Great view. Jenna actually seems excited to be here. It's a special performance of The Little Mermaid.
I figured the story would be familiar enough to make the dance enjoyable for Jenna. But, not quite forty minutes into the program, I look over to find Jenna asleep. Xanax and alcohol. A knockout combination. She rouses when the lights come up for intermission. Guess I dozed off. Sorry. But this stuff is just so boring. You don't like it, do you?
Why did I expect anything different?
"Actually, I don't like it.
I love it. Sorry you don't feel the same way."
Cara
Did I Expect To learn something new, walking the same old avenues? Did I believe I'd find surprises under the pillow my head rests on every night-an extension of myself?
Change doesn't come without invitation.
You won't discover it in routine. And you won't create an all-new and better you if you wait for someone else to give you permission.
Transformation begins- and ends-inside of you.
Transformation Isn't easy when most of the people in your life think you're already perfect, and want you to stay just how they see you. Try to begin a new phase, you'd better expect push-back. Try to create a whole new you, your friend list will shrink considerably. I don't have any friends left at all, and that's before anyone knows about Dani and me. I'm so happy that school is almost over.
Once it is, I'll be free of the pressure to be someone other than who I am.
Not sure how I'll come out to my parents, or if that's what I should even do. Is there a proper time to tell your relatives that you're a lesbian?
Easier to let them guess than to stand up on a soapbox, loudly confess that, hey, guys just don't do it for me. At least Dad has Conner to carry on the Sykes family name.
Thank G.o.d that was not legitimately up to me. And speaking of G.o.d, hope he's okay with me being here at worship on Easter Sunday. One thing good about Lutherans-most of them don't ostracize gay people.
Gay. Lesbian. Words. That did not apply to me until recently. Or did they? Do you have to admit you're a lesbian before you are one? Dani says no. I can't think about her now.
Here. In church. Can I? G.o.d, I think I love her. Is that wrong? Or is that me, only a footnote to your master plan?
Easter Is a mad celebration. Imagine if the story is true. Resurrection.
The ultimate transformation. Son of man, risen in glory to take his place at the right hand of G.o.d. Okay, that's the preached-from-the-pulpit version.
But in the historical context, it's even better. Some guy-a street person with a resonant message-in turn wows crowds, then somehow angers them enough to want him dead.
When the reigning pols agree, he is crucified. Hung on a cross to die, while former followers cheer.
Sounds like some modern politicians.
Hope they never have to rely on resurrection.
I Sit With Mom And Dad Near the front of the church.
Not sure how much of the Easter story either of them really believes.
Pure light and boundless love don't seem to relate much to Mom, who sits straight-backed and ice-cold in her chair. Dad, at least, sings the liturgy and semi-tunes in to the pastor's remarks.... He died so that we, no matter our lifestyles or challenges or histories, might live, free from judgment or sorrow, forever.
No matter our lifestyles. Was that directed specifically toward me?
Free from judgment. What I find particularly funny about that is how judged I felt at the party Friday night. Hard enough coming to terms with the label "lesbian," without somehow having to prove that you are "lesbian enough." Dani thought it was funny. Come on. Don't take it seriously. They're just jealous.
Easier to call you a fake than to try and wear jeans as well as you do.
Anyway, if you need validation, I think you're a total lez. You don't need to look like a boy to prove it. Now let's discuss what you do need to do to prove it. We were in her car and it had started to snow by then.
We drove to a far corner of the Rancho San Rafael parking lot, and as dime- size flakes turned to quarter-size, curtaining the gla.s.s, Dani showed me what it takes to make love to a girl.
It Is Yielding Flesh, lush and tender as June peaches. It is giving, gracious, respectful. And though I lacked experience, Dani was forgiving, taught me what I asked to know, left me to discover what I could.
Her kisses were typhoon, wind, rain and lightning, storming into open windows. She blanketed me with velvet skin, pillowed me with exotic perfume, lifted me onto a cloud just one breath away from heaven.
I couldn't say no. Didn't say stop.
I wanted more. Wanted to go on forever, even after the first burst of rain.
Even then, I begged for downpour.
Afterward Iced April air touching our heated skin and lifting, steam, I shattered beneath the weight of ident.i.ty.
Shards of uncertainty scattered, dissipated with each frosty exhale.
Tears too long held inside dropped, crystals encasing half-truths. Secrets.
Candor would not be denied, and I told her everything-how I had kept my virginity until I needed to be sure.
How I teased Sean. Challenged him, even, only to change my mind. How I pleaded with him to stop, the end result.
I thought she would chastise me, say I deserved what I got. Instead anger billowed up in her eyes.
Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. G.o.dd.a.m.n him to h.e.l.l. Guys like that deserve a noncommutable sentence of castration. But why didn't you tell?
I have to think about it. "The last few months have been so hard, with my brother and all. I didn't want more upheaval, you know?"
You mean external upheaval.
But what about the craziness inside?
Promise, no matter what, you'll never shut yourself off from me.
And what's going on with your brother? I had never mentioned Conner to her either. The subject just hadn't ever come up. It has now.
Despite only spilling to one person before, I told Dani everything about my twin and why he ended up where he did. Well, she asked for it. I even proposed my guilt. "I knew he was messing around with his teacher.
If I would have told, maybe... he..."
Confessing that encouraged a new round of tears. By then maybe, just maybe, I was feeling sorry for myself. But then again, why? Hadn't Dani just allowed me to put to one side the people in my life who I don't have the power to save? Which brings me back to church. Back to Pastor's words.
I'm not a savior. And even he, who so many believe was the Savior, was strung up to die. Maybe it's time to save myself.
On my left, my mother continues to pray only for herself. On my right, Dad is still impossible to read. How do I confess to either this momentous revelation?
All the strength I felt just moments ago, every iota of elation, deflates. I am zero.
They Don't Have To Know Right now. Or maybe ever. Pretty sure Mom couldn't care less if I marry.